What is a Home?
by NovelistServant
Summary: In order to avoid going back to Glass Shard Beach for the summer, Ford takes up Fiddleford's invitation to spend the summer in Tennessee. There he is faced with angry chickens, loud hogs, trouble-making siblings, falling roof-tiles, and never a moment of peace... and yet this would turn out to be one of Ford's favorite summers. No shipping.
1. Chapter 1

"Anyhow, got any plans for the summer?"

Ford sat up a little straighter in his desk, no longer hovering over his work as he studied hard for the upcoming finals. Polar-opposite from his childhood, he was actually dreading the summer. It had been difficult to go back to Glass Shard Beach for three weeks for the holidays; Ford doubted he could handle three months. While he was on break from college, Ford had spent most of his time in the library, out of the house and away from the beach. He supposed he could do that again and maybe pick up a summer job to keep himself busy, but it didn't sound like a fun summer staying out of his childhood home as much as he could. "Oh, I was thinking of signing up for some of Backupsmore's summer classes." Ford shared with his roommate lightly.

Fiddleford was sitting on his bed, the bottom bunk, and polishing his banjo; it was high-time his beloved instrument had been cleaned and it was a good task to do to take a break from studying. He chuckled and shook his head. "Don't you ever rest, Stanford? Why not go home n' relax?"

"I would rather not, thank you." Ford said and resumed his work.

Fiddleford caught the darkness in his friend's tone and it dawned on him that Ford might not feel comfortable going home. Fiddleford was blessed to have an amazing relationship with his family, but he acknowledged that not everyone was as lucky as him. Ford never really talked about his family, but from the tid-bits of information Fiddleford got over their freshman year of college, he had gathered that something ugly had happened before Ford went to Backupsmore and that he was now somewhat out-of-place with his family. Fiddleford hated that for his best friend, and he suddenly had an idea. "Well, if ya want, you're more than welcome t'come back t'Tennesee with me n' spend the summer at my house."

Ford actually turned his chair to look back at Fiddleford. He had heard enough stories from Fiddleford's childhood to know that he had come from a hog-farm and had more siblings than Fiddleford had fingers on one hand; heck, maybe more fingers than Ford had on one hand! The idea of spending all summer with Fiddleford on a hog-farm in the middle of nowhere… actually sounded nice.

Ford could see himself being shown around town by Fiddleford and relaxing on a porch and reading a book. It sounded much better than going back to Glass Shard Beach and, maybe it was because Ford was close to earning his PhD and he was cracking under the pressure, but taking a break from school sounded like a good idea. "That sounds great!" Ford said enthusiastically, catching Fiddleford by surprise, but he smiled back nonetheless. "Could I really spend the summer with you in Tennessee?"

"Of course ya can!" Fiddleford said cheerfully. "We'd be delighted t'have ya! I'll call Mama soon n' tell here you're comin'!"

"Thank you very much, Fiddleford." Ford said and sighed, like a few pounds had been lifted off his chest.

"Hey, what else are friends for, huh?"

* * *

The flight from San Francisco to Chattanooga was five-and-a-half hours long and the plane took off at 7:30 in the morning, so given the fact that they were crossing four time zones, it would be 4 o'clock in the afternoon when Ford and Fiddleford would land, and then, according to Fiddleford, it was an hour-long drive from the station to Fiddleford's hometown, Athens. The young men were used to planes by now and enjoyed the flight, breaking the ride up with talks, naps, snacks, and books. When they landed in Chattanooga, Ford let Fiddleford lead the way since his younger brother was going to be picking them up from the airport.

Fiddleford picked up his banjo case and suitcase while Ford got his leather messenger-bag and suitcase. Fiddleford then started towards the exit and looked around for anyone familiar. "C'mon, Bart, you're usually on time. Where on God's green…"

A loud, high-pitched whistle echoed through the big airport and everyone winced and covered their ears. Fiddleford, once the whistling was over, straightened up and smiled when his eye caught a young man by the door. Ford followed Fiddleford and soon he saw the guy waving his hand in the air in case his loud whistle didn't get their attention. This man looked almost nothing like Fiddleford, but he had the same nose as him and looked about their age, so this had to be Fiddleford's brother, Bartholomew. He had blond, flat hair and wore a blue t-shirt and dirty jeans with boots. Ford never seen this man before, but Fiddleford had told many stories about Bartholomew; they weren't even a year apart and they had always been close friends.

Fiddleford chuckled as he shook his head and went up to his brother. "Couldn't help yourself, could ya?"

"Well, y'all were runnin' 'round like chickens with your heads cut off." Bartholomew laughed and the brothers hugged, a tough pat on the back but that strong squeeze was there. Right as they let go, as brothers will, Bartholomew elbowed Fiddleford in the ribs and Fiddleford stomped on his foot in retaliation. "So, are choo gonna break another toe or are choo gonna introduce me t'your friend, Fidds?"

Fiddleford smiled as Bartholomew stood on one foot and rubbed the boot Fiddleford had hardly stomped on enough to hurt. "Bart, this my roommate from Backupsmore, Stanford Pines. Ford, this here my little brother, Bartholomew."

Bartholomew gagged and held out his hand for Ford to shake. "_Please_ dunn'ever call me that. Bart's just fine. Nice t'finally meet choo, Ford."

Ford chuckled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Bart. Thank you so much for having me."

"Oh, phaw! Don't thank me, or better yet, don't thank Mama or Papa, neither. Everyone's excited t'have y'all home, which reminds me, we'd better get goin'. Oh, n' Fidds, Mama's already mad at choo."

"I haven't even stepped foot in the house yet n' Mama's already mad?" Fiddleford laughed as they walked to the exit with Ford behind them. "What'd I do this time?"

"Ya never told her Ford's favorite foods. She's throwin' a fit over what t'feed him."

Ford felt himself turn red. "She doesn't have to worry about me. I'll eat anything."

"Oh, Heaven Above, have choo never met a Southern woman before?" Bart laughed and smiled at Ford. "Trust me, she won't rest until she stuffs ya like a Thanksgivin' turkey."

Bart led the two out to his truck and they quickly took off. While Fiddleford and Bart caught up on tedious things, Ford listened and admired Chattanooga. It reminded him of a smaller version of New York with a few skyscrapers, but there was a lot more green circling the city. Once on the interstate, they drove over a river and Ford awed as they approached the mountains. He had always enjoyed seeing them from the plane's view, flying over the northern tip of the southern states to get from New Jersey to California, but this was different. The truck didn't have air conditioning so all the windows were rolled down, which meant Ford got a lung-full of sweet-smelling Pine-scented air. The polydactyl student had never had this much pride for his last name before.

The hour-long drive didn't feel long at all. Ford listened to the two brothers talk and occasionally joined in, but he was a little too busy admiring Tennessee's beauty to dive into a conversation. Bert actually noticed this and chuckled as he shook his head. They soon got off the interstate and traveled down a dirt highway for Athens. Ford awed at seeing a deer and her baby grazing, a squirrel climbing up a tree, and some birds sang to the men as they passed by a nest. When Ford wasn't admiring the scenery, he was noticing how similar Fiddleford and Bart's relationship was to his own with Stan before his own brother sought out to ruin his life. The thought gave Ford an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, but he swallowed and ignored it; he wasn't going to allow his bad experiences make him envious. In all seriousness, Ford was happy that Fiddleford had such a good friendship with his brother.

They left the highway and passed a small town, which Ford admired more than Chattanooga. He had never seen anything quite like it. There were little shops with houses on top, like at Glass Shard, but outside of the little town, houses were scattered and separated by farms. They passed by a field full of cows and soon traveled down a little windy road in the woods until they hit a clearing. Ford grinned at seeing a mailbox at the edge of the clearing that read "McGucket" and he knew the beautiful house before him was Fiddleford's home.

It was a little rundown, with a couple pieces of tile peeling off the ceiling and the white walls of the house needed to be cleaned or repainted, but it was somewhat big, a two-story house, with a round-about porch and a farm at the back. There was another, smaller house off to the side with a garage. That house looked newer, and, unless Ford misunderstood Fiddleford's stories, the eldest brother and his family lived there to work on the farm. Ford could hear a violin and the pigs from where he was and - unless he was delusional - he could smell cinnamon. Or maybe he was just smelling the apples from the trees nearby and his mind was imagining cinnamon to go with it.

Fiddleford sighed peacefully as they pulled up to the house. "It feels good to be back."

Bart smiled and glanced kindly over at Ford. "I know it ain't much, but it's home."

Ford grinned. "I think it's brilliant."

Fiddleford and Bart both blushed and grinned proudly. Bart pulled the truck next to two others and parked. Immediately, the door on the porch flew open and a woman stood there as Fiddleford and Ford got their things out of the trunk. This woman was a head shorter than the men and looked more like Bart than Fiddleford, having blonde curls and beautiful blue eyes. She was very pretty and wore a red plaid dress with a smug white apron and dirty boots. She had her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face that actually scared Ford more than he thought it would.

"Fiddleford Hadron McGucket!" She squawked.

Fiddleford flinched at being full-named and piped meekly, "Hi there, Mama."

"Oh, don't choo 'hi Mama' me, young man!" Mrs. McGucket snapped as she marched down the porch and up to her son. "What on Earth am I t'feed the boy, huh?!"

Fiddleford rubbed his forehead and said, "I tried t'ask him what he wanted, Mama, but he only said that he'll eat anythang."

Ford swallowed nervously over being the reason why Fiddleford was in trouble, but his nervousness disappeared when Mrs. McGucket snorted a laugh and smiled brightly. "I reckon I can forgive choo if choo give this old woman a hug."

Fiddleford smiled, dropped his things back in the trunk, and happily hugged his mother tightly. "You're far from old, Mama."

"Quit flatterin' me n' introduce me t'your friend." Mrs. McGucket laughed as she squeezed Fiddleford tightly and them let him go.

Fiddleford cleared his throat, rubbed at a no-doubt aching rib, and said, "Right. Mama, this is my roommate, Stanford Pines. Ford, this is my mother, Mrs. Connie Naomi Nilsson McGucket."

"It's lovely to meet you, ma'am." Ford greeted with a smile, but Mrs. McGucket must have thought that wasn't good enough, because she gave Ford a hug, her arms wrapped around his neck and making him blush.

Mrs. McGucket let go after a quick squeeze and chuckled, "Oh, it's wonderful t'finally meet choo, too, Stanford. Fiddleford's told us so much 'bout ya. We're all happy t'have choo here!"

"Where is everybody, Mama?" Fiddleford asked.

"Your father n' Jr. n' Maxwell are out on the farm, Mary's helpin' with supper in the house, Jolene's watchin' the kids on the back porch, Montgomery's still at the shop, n' Cornellius is upstairs." Mrs. McGucket said and led the way up the porch-stairs. "Now that you're home I'll get dinner done quicker than green grass through a goose. Now, Fiddleford sweetie, we've moved Bartholomew into Montgomery's room so ya n' Stanford have your old room t'yourselves. Oh, Heaven Above! Stanford, you're not allergic t'cats, are ya?!"

Ford bit his lip to keep from chuckling as she held the screendoor open for the three men. "No, Mrs. McGucket, I actually enjoy cats. My mother had Snowball before she had me."

Mrs. McGucket smiled as they entered the house. "Well, choo make yourself comfortable n' you'll hear the bell when supper's ready. Nu, huh! Not choo, Bartholomew! You're gonna get out there n' help your father n' brothers with the hogs!"

"Oh, Mama…"

"Get!" Mrs. McGucket squawked and let the screendoor slam in front of her son so he would have to jump back or have his nose squashed.

Ford admired the house. It was very clean, but obviously run down. It was by no means a mansion or belonged to a rich man, but the atmosphere alone made Ford feel like a million dollars. To the left was a huge doorway with no door that opened to a living room with two couches, armchairs, and a beautiful fireplace at the back wall. Big windows let in plenty of sunshine and an old toy-chest sat at the end of one couch, but a closer look told Ford that it held blankets, not toys. Ford looked to his right, where Mrs. McGucket ran off, and he smiled at seeing a pretty young lady mixing something in a pot and Mrs. McGucket checked the clock on the wall before slipping on oven-mitts and checking inside the oven. The kitchen and dining room were combined in one giant room with a table that could sit twelve or maybe even fourteen if everyone was willing to squeeze, and when Mary opened the back door to drag some ingredients, Ford saw a beautiful walk-in pantry full of food, most of it probably homemade.

"C'mon, Ford, we can take our thangs upstairs." Fiddleford said with a pat on the shoulder and led the way up the stairs.

Ford hoisted his shoulder-bag a little higher and followed. The stairs were divided in two so it turned climbers around for the second floor. The walls on the staircase were filled with photographs, some older and some newer. Christmases, birthdays, Thanksgiving and parties told Ford a story he didn't understand but still enjoyed. Mr. and Mrs. McGucket's wedding photo stuck out to him, as well as Todd Jr. and Mary's. When Ford reached the second floor with Fiddleford, he saw five doors, one directly in front of him and the other four divided in four corners. Mostly based on habit, Fiddleford pounded a fist on the closest right door as loudly as he could, making Ford jump and someone else swear colorfully.

The door flew open and a young man adjusted his glasses. He wore a white button-up and wore glasses much like Fiddleford's. In fact, he looked a lot like Fiddleford, having the same hair color and style. He was chubbier and a head shorter, and despite the scare he had just given, he grinned and his eyes sparkled. Ford could tell that this was a young man that was hard to catch in a bad mood.

"Well, ya sure know how t'greet a guy, Fidds!" The young man laughed and hugged Fiddleford, who hugged him back, and he then asked, "How was college?"

"It was great! I wanted t'introduce ya t'my roommate." Fiddleford said. "Corn, this Stanford Pines. Ford, this my youngest brother, Cornellius."

Cornellius shook Ford's hand tightly and a little rough, but not out of anger; it seemed like shaking Ford's hand was the best thing Cornellius has done all day. "Pleasure's all mine, Ford! Fidds told us all 'bout ya o'course! Likin' it so far here?"

"Yes, actually." Ford admitted and tried to ignore the ache in his hand. "The drive was pleasant and very beautiful. And, what is Mrs. McGucket and M… Mrs. McGucket cooking? It smelled delicious."

"Oh, Mama n' Mary are makin' beans n' rice with sausage, biscuits, corn-on-a-cob, green beans, mashed potatoes, n' I do believe Mary made her delicious blueberry pie." Cornellius said, remembering what his mother had shared at breakfast for her plan for the day.

Ford's stomach suddenly felt very empty.

Fiddleford groaned and laughed, "Why ya gotta torture an innocent man, Corn? Well, over here, Ford."

Cornellius went ahead to the back left room, the one diagonal from his, and opened the door for the two since their hands were full. Ford smiled as he could tell this was Fiddleford's bedroom. Two twin beds occupied the room, one on each side of the room. One side - the left side - had been cleared out for Ford while the other side had more personal items Fiddleford didn't take to college, like a handmade-quilt over his bed, framed photos on shelves on the wall, and old games and a wardrobe full of winter-clothes by the door.

Footsteps directed Ford, Fiddleford, and Cornellius' attention and they looked at the staircase and saw another man join them. This man was maybe an inch taller than Fiddleford and looked more like him and Cornellius than Bart did, but his hair was a slightly darker brown than Cornellius and Fiddleford's. His hands were stained with dark shoe polish and he smiled when he saw the men. "Hey! Welcome home!"

"Thanks!" Fiddleford greeted and they exchanged a quick hug. "Ford, this my big brother, Montgomery. Monty, this here my roommate..."

"Stanford Pines," Monty finished for him and shook Ford's hand. "Pleasure's all mine. We're all happy to have ya here, Ford."

Ford smiled kindly, flattered by the amazing hospitality he had been greeted with since getting off the plane, and said, "Thank you. I'm happy to be here."

Suddenly, a small bell-like ringing could be hard from downstairs. Monty clapped his hands. "Ah, supper. Better wash up, y'all." And he went into the backroom for the bathroom.

His little brothers followed and Ford did the same once he sat his suitcase and shoulder-bag on the empty bed. Ford awed at the odd bathroom. It had a tub and shower-head to the left and a toilet to the right, like a normal bathroom, but right in front of the door was a long sink, like the one you might find in a newer public restroom, with four faucets pouring into one huge bowl, a bowl that looked more like a carved out tree-trunk the more Ford looked at it (knowing Mr. McGucket's creativity to solving problems - according to Fiddleford anyway - this was probably true).

Once the men were washed up, it was downstairs for supper. Ford stood to the side and watched the peaceful chaos. Mrs. McGucket had plates, silverware, and glasses already set on the table and people began to take seats. Cornellius reached in the fridge and began to fill the glasses with whatever everyone wanted to drink. While Mrs. McGucket and Mary were sitting things on the table, Ford watched as people began to take seats and chat. A young man who had a short blond beard and blue eyes (Ford guessed that the man was Todd Jr.) was sitting a baby girl in a highchair as he blew a raspberry on her cheek and made her laugh. A little boy, about three-years-old from the looks of it, was sitting next to a pretty blonde teenager (whom Ford knew to be Jolene) at the very back by the pantry and facing Ford. Monty sat next to Jolene and a young man Ford hadn't met sat next to Monty, sitting by the end by the big windows and closest to the doorway. He had sandy hair, a thin frame, and resembled a mouse. That must be the trouble-maker of the family, Maxwell.

Among the chaos, the eldest man approached Ford and smiled with an extended hand. "Stanford! Good t'have finally meet ya, young man. Welcome!"

Ford smiled humbly at the man. This must be Fiddleford's father, Mr. Todd Montgomery McGucket. He was clearly where Fiddleford, Cornellius, and Monty got their looks from. He had a long, thin beard freckled with gray hairs, but his eyes sparkled lively and he looked very strong. He had reading glasses in the pocket of his overalls and wore a red-plaid flannel under his overalls, all accompanied with mud-stained work boots. This was a man that worked hard and hardly rested, and much like Fiddleford and the rest of the family, he had an atmosphere that Ford couldn't help but like.

"It's good to meet you too, sir." Ford said as he shook his hand. "Thank you so much for having me this summer."

"Oh, you're mighty welcome!" Mr. McGucket said and patted his back. "Ya c'mon down whenever ya want! We don't ever mind none."

"Ford, ya be wantin' tea or water?" Cornellius asked as he held a pitcher of sweet tea and stood by a chair.

"Oh, uh, water, please." Ford said and sat next to Fiddleford, at Mrs. McGucket's left hand as she and Mr. McGucket had one end of the table and Mary and Todd Jr. had the other end. Ford looked at the table admirably. The food all looked wonderful and smelled delicious. Having had little to eat, Ford couldn't wait to dig in, but he didn't want to be the first one and he soon saw everyone bow their heads and hold their hands in their lap, and so Ford did the same, guessing that they were about to pray over their food.

"Dear God, we thank ya for the food ya have brought before us n' the good company we are blessed with today n' for the whole summer." Mr. McGucket said in a voice just loud enough to hear across the table as he prayed over the table. "May this food nourish our bodies n' may ya please forgive us when we fail. In Jesus' name we pray," And the whole room joined him for "Amen." And then the whole table burst into noise.

Mary was feeding her baby, Caroline, bites of mashed potatoes and chatting with Cornellius, who was sitting on the other side of Caroline and offered to feed her so Mary could eat. Bart, who was sitting between Cornellius and Fiddleford, was chatting with Fiddleford and catching him up on the town's gossip and other news from home. Mr. McGucket was listening to Max and Monty talk about Max's new girlfriend and Jolene was entertaining Todd Jr. and Mary's son, Jefferson, by telling him stories. Mrs. McGucket and Ford listened to Bart catch Fiddleford up and she would occasionally inject her own opinion or news.

Ford, not wanting to miss anything, dipped himself a little bit of everything and ate quietly as he enjoyed the meal. Though it was loud and chaotic and some quiet would be most appreciated after the meal, for now Ford was content with listening and filling his stomach with good food. Ma was a good cook and Ford had to admit that he had missed her meals, but Mrs. McGucket and Mary were amazing cooks. The beans-and-rice with sausage was delicious and the biscuits tasted like little clouds of happiness. Though he thought nothing could make the biscuit better, he saw Fiddleford add honey to his own and Ford decided to try it. He had never tasted such fresh honey and it somehow made the biscuit ten-times better. The green beans had been cooked with chopped onions and bacon, adding amazing flavor, and the mashed potatoes were fluffy and buttery, not to mention the corn-on-the-cob was juicy and, sure it got stuck in Ford's teeth, but it was totally worth it for the delicious vegetable.

"Another cob, Stanford?" Mrs. McGucket offered and held the plate full of them out to him. "Some more green beans? Don't choo leave this table hungry now."

"No, ma'am." Ford said with a smile. "I swear I won't. I'm fine, thank you."

"Well, if you're sure, now. There's plenty t'go 'round."

"Leave the boy alone, Connie." Mr, McGucket chuckled and turned his attention to Ford. "Now, where 'gain are ya from?"

"A small town in New Jersey, sir." Ford answered. "Glass Shard Beach."

"Oh, the beach! That sounds nice! We never been t'one, but always wanted t'go. Is it as nice as everyone fusses it t'be?"

"As long as you were cautious about the shards of glass, yes it was." Ford chuckled.

"N' what are ya goin' t'college for?" Mrs. McGucket asked politely.

"Um, well, I'm not entirely sure." Ford admitted with a sheepish shrug. "I had just achieved a PhD in engineering and I'm hoping to get one in…"

"A PhD?" Mr. McGucket repeated with a raised brow. "Ain't that the most ya get when ya graduate?"

Ford felt himself turn red. "Y-Yes sir, but…"

"Fiddleford!" Mrs. McGucket scolded but smiled at Ford. "How come choo never told us! That's amazin'! Your parents must be so proud!"

Ford spared only a moment to ask himself if they were. Pa might be if he thought Ford was going to do something impressive with his PhD; Ma certainly was (this thought bubbled some guilt in his stomach and he made a mental note to call his mother when he got an opportunity).

Mrs. McGucket praised Ford a bit more, spilling into a speech about what hard work can do, before standing up and gathering dishes. "Fiddleford, it's your turn."

Fiddleford got up without complaint, rolled up his sleeves, and helped his mother wash the dishes. With no dishwasher in the house, dishes had to be washed and dried by hand, so everybody took turns helping Mrs. McGucket do the dishes, leaving her to dry them and put them away.

Ford stood up and began to roll up his sleeves, as well. "I can help too, ma'am. I don't mind."

Mrs. McGucket smiled and tried to decline his offer. "No, no, dear, choo sit down n' relax."

"No, ma'am, I insist." Ford honestly felt a little awkward not contributing in some way, and perhaps Mrs. McGucket could see that in his eyes, because she didn't put up much of a fight and Fiddleford compromised by scrubbing the dishes and having Ford rinse them and hand them to Mrs. McGucket to dry.

One by one, each family member dispurced. Mary picked Jeff up to take him into the little house and give him a bath while Todd Jr. played peek-a-boo with Caroline in the living room. Mr. McGucket also went in there and soon Bart, Cornellius, Max, and Monty would also leave for the living room. Jolene stayed back and properly introduced herself to Ford. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, like her father, and she was beautiful. Only thirteen and the youngest, she also gave off this sort of power that squandered any notion that she was delicate or a "fine young lady", as Fiddleford had put it in the past. "Nice to finally meet ya, Ford!"

"It's nice to meet you, too, Jolene." Ford said as he rinsed off a plate and handed it to Mrs. McGucket. "Fiddleford has told me so much about you. Though, I must admit, I dare not believe a handful of his stories." He added with a smirk.

"Every one's true, Fordsie." Fiddleford retaliated with a roll of his eyes.

Bart poked his head into the kitchen and said, "Fidds, ya gonna play tonight? It ain't the same without choo."

"I reckon so." Fiddleford said with a shrug as he handed Ford another plate to rinse. Ford gave him a confused look, so Fiddleford elaborated while Bart and Jolene left the kitchen. "It's kinda daily routine t'play together. We're all so busy durin' the day that dinner n' nights are the only times we really talk."

"I know you play the banjo, but what does everyone else play?" Ford asked.

"Mama plays the violin n' taught Jolene," Fiddleford started. "Papa plays guitar n' taught Todd n' Monty, n' Bart plays a mean pair of spoons."

"Mary can also play piano." Mrs. McGucket inputted. "How 'bout it, Stanford? Choo play?"

"I know the basics of piano," Ford said with a shrug, his mother had grown up with piano lessons and there was almost always an antique piano in Pines Pawn, but Ford had always been too busy with boxing and his academics to add piano lessons to the list. "But not much."

"Choo sing?"

Ford felt himself turn red. "No, ma'am."

"Nonsense, everyone can sing." Mrs. McGucket insisted. "It don't matter none how choo sound."

Ford knew he probably sound half-decent, but he still didn't like to sing. A few minutes later and he and Mrs. McGucket joined the family in the living room. It was too warm to light the fireplace, but a cool breeze was pleasant enough to open the huge window behind one of the couches, occupied by Bart and Cornellius. Mr. McGucket sat on the other couch, chatting with Todd Jr. (who was holding Caroline in his lap and bouncing her with his knee), and scooted over so his wife so Mrs. McGucket could sit between her boys. Jolene sat in a small, old armchair between that couch and the doorway and Monty sat in the armchair between Bart and Cornellius' couch and the fireplace. Max stretched his long skinny legs out on the floor and sat by his brothers and chatted. Monty was tuning a bass guitar and Todd Jr. and Mr. McGucket had acoustic guitars with them. Ford smiled as Jolene pulled out a violin from a case and began to tune it.

Just as Ford entered the room, Fiddleford joined them with his banjo and sat in one of the twin armchairs between Bart and Cornellius' couch and the doorway. Ford sat in the other armchair and was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was. Stuffed from dinner and had woken up early that morning, Ford was suddenly sleepy and was torn between going to bed or listening to the McGucket family's music. Mary and Jeff came in, the boy in his pajamas, and he flung himself into his Uncle Max's arms and sat in his lap on the floor.

Mr. McGucket picked a note, sang a bit, and then played. "_There will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword. He will tear your city down, n' leave it all behind_."

Todd Jr. jumped in, playing his guitar, and sang along. "_There will come a poet whose weapon is his words. He will slay ya with his tongue, n' leave y'all there t'bleed_."

And the whole room sang along, in harmony, while Jolene played long, slow notes on her violin and Monty had his bass join in. "_But then they'll be a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn, smeared with oil like David's boy, n' let y'all free at morn._"

Ford smiled peacefully at listening to the family sing. Even with Fiddleford being gone since Christmas, they all harmonized perfectly. Mrs. McGucket, Cornellius, Mary, Jolene, and Monty were easily the best singers, but the rest sang and played well. Ford didn't know any of the words to their songs, but he was happy to tap his foot along and watch admirably as they played.

Caroline, who had been sitting by her father's feet as he played, crawled from person to person slowly, a fun game to her, visiting each person. After crawling to Jolene and getting a quick head-pat from her aunt, Caroline crawled to Fiddleford and stretched her chubby arms for him. He opted out of one song so he could hug and hold his niece happily. "Well hey there, beautiful! Missed your favorite uncle, huh?"

"'Cuse me, Fidds." Max snarled playfully over the instrumental song. "_I'm_ her favorite uncle!"

"Who made her favorite mobile?" Fiddleford asked proudly and tickled Caroline's ribs, making her squeal and squirm happily.

"Sorry t'burst your bubble, brothers," Monty interrupted. "But _I'm_ her favorite uncle! I'm her nap-buddy!"

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" Cornellius laughed. "She loves my special cookies just for the wittle princess."

"Y'all spoil her rotten, choo know that?" Mrs. McGucket scolded lightly.

Jolene raised an eyebrow at her and said, "This is comin' from the woman who let her stay up passed ten n' eat Grandma's old butterscotch."

The boys "oh"ed while Jolene played her instrument smugly and Ford and Mr. McGucket laughed. Apparently the topic of "favorite uncle" was a common and fun argument in the family.

"Alright, well who's your favorite uncle, Jeff?" Max asked, putting the three-year-old on the spot and all eyes were suddenly on him.

Jeff, feeling the pressure and not wanting to hurt one of his uncle's feelings, pointed to their guest and blurted out, "Ford!"

The room exploded into laughter as both Jeff and Ford turned bright red. Mr. McGucket slapped his knee and Caroline, having no idea what they were laughing at, laughed, too, and leaned over to Ford. Fiddleford flopped her onto his lap and patted his back. "Welcome to the family, Stanford."

"Th-Thank you." Ford stuttered, smiled nervously at Caroline, and knew that this summer would be interesting to say the least.


	2. Chapter 2

Ford wasn't sure what woke him up at first, but then he heard the rooster crow again and he knew that the obnoxious bird had woken him up. Ford lifted his head and blinked his stiff eyes. The sun had just risen. He was lying on his front, so he slipped on his glasses and sleepily read the time on the silver watch that had been next to his lenses. It was exactly 5:30.

Ford looked to the other side of the bedroom and watched Fiddleford sit up in bed and stretch his arms over his head. When Fiddleford saw that his roommate was awake, he yawned and smiled. "M-M-Mornin'."

"Good morning." Ford ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy brown hair and sat up as well.

"Naw, ya don't have t'get up right now unless ya wanna." Fiddleford said as he stood up in his pajamas and popped his back. "I'm only gettin' up cuz I gotta do chores n' take Bart, Max, Corn, n' Jolene t'school if I want the truck today."

"No, I'll go with you." Ford said as he sat on the edge of his borrowed bed. "What will everyone else be doing?"

"Well," Fiddleford listened to the sounds of the house and said, "Jolene's in the shower, says she likes to use it best when all the guys are asleep. We'll all do chores, eat breakfast, then at seven-thirty we'll drive the kids to school while Papa n' Todd work on the farm, Monty'll go into town n' work for the shoe cobbler, n' ya n' I are free t'go 'round town."

"What do you normally do during the day?"

"Usually there's some sort of project for me to work on." Fiddleford said with a shrug. "Maybe it'll be changin' the tires, maybe it'll be fixin' a radio, maybe it'll be repairin' the fridge. Never fails somethang breaks 'round here." He chuckled.

Ford smiled, knowing that Fiddleford took pride in helping his family, and stood up to get dressed for the day in his dark-pants and golden button-up.

Fifteen minutes later and they both left Fiddleford's bedroom fully dressed for the kitchen. Just before reaching the stairs, however, Bart left the bedroom he shared with Monty and growled, "Lord, one more week n' I'm gonna shoot that rooster."

Fiddleford only rolled his eyes. While he was a morning person, Bart and Max were definitely not. "Ya still gotta do chores, Bart."

"Let a man dream, Fidds." Bart said as he punched Fiddleford's shoulder and the three headed downstairs for breakfast.

Mrs. McGucket was cooking, gracing the room with the smell of ham and she was also making eggs and had more biscuits in the oven. Mr. McGucket was reading a newspaper and smiled at the boys as they walked in. Monty was sipping coffee and poured out three mugs and let each person fix it how they wanted it, the milk and sugar on the table. Soon a big plate of biscuits slid on the table and people quietly grabbed and munched over their own plates. Then Mrs. McGucket served out big, thick pieces of sweet ham and put down a bowl full of cheesy scrambled eggs. Ford thought he would never get tired of Mrs. McGucket's cooking.

"This is delicious, Mrs. McGucket." He complimented between mouthfuls of eggs. "Thank you."

"Aw, you're mighty welcome." Mrs. McGucket blushed and poured herself a second cup of coffee.

Jolene came down, her hair damp but in beautiful curls and she wore overalls and sneakers with a dark-purple t-shirt. She grabbed a biscuit and poured herself a cup of orange juice. "No need t'pick me up, Fidds."

"I didn't plan on it." He teased. "I reckon with no time crunch y'all can walk home."

"Any reason you're against havin' your brother pick ya up from school, missy?" Mrs. McGucket asked sternly.

"I'd just rather walk in the woods…"

"Not until ya come home n' finish your homework!"

"Oh, Ma…"

"Don't choo 'oh, Mama' me, young lady, I brought choo into this world n' I can take choo out." The other snapped, making Ford bite his lip with amusement and he caught the brothers holding their breath in an attempt to do the same. "You'll finish your schoolin' _then_ play in the woods, n' that's that."

"I ain't _playin'_!" Jolene defended. "I'm _explorin'_! N' I feel like a bird in a cage while in that hellhole! Walkin' in nature 's the only thang that makes me feel free!"

"Well, freedom's t'be earned, n' if choo do your work, you'll earn it." Mrs. McGucket said in a softer tone, but then turned to make it clear that there was no point arguing anymore. Jolene puffed some golden curls out of her eyes and finished her biscuit on the way up the stairs. "N' send Max down on your way up!" Mrs. McGucket hollered after her only daughter. "He's gonna make y'all late, again!"

"Will Todd and his family be joining us soon?" Ford asked Fiddleford.

"Nah, Mary'll fix Todd some breakfast at their house n' then try t'get some stuff done before the kids wake up." Fiddleford answered. He then listened to the sounds of the house again and added, "Ah, Corn's in the shower."

"He went ahead n' fed the chickens." Mrs. McGucket informed. "Fiddleford if choo'll feed n' water the hogs then choo can take the young'ins t'school."

"I'll help." Ford volunteered and stood up as Fiddleford stood, too.

"Oh, naw, sweetie, choo don't have t'..."

"No, ma'am, I have never seen a hog farm before."

Mrs. McGucket shook her head with a smile. "Well, make sure choo're wearin' clothes choo don't mind gettin' mud on, then. Rascal likes t'kick up mud."

Ford, upon his initial reaction, looked down at his dark pants, golden-polo, and boots he had worn, predicting that he might get dirty today in the woods or seeing the McGucket farm, and decided what he was wearing was fine before following Fiddleford out to the back. They walked off the back porch and Ford awed as the sun shined brightly on a medium-sized garden and a fenced-in barn. The garden was just big enough for the large family and grew all sorts of produce, like tomatoes, onions, cabbage, potatoes, okra, jalapenos, cucumbers, radishes, pumpkins, corn, and lots more; to add onto it, when Ford looked back at the porch, he noticed that a small bed full of herbs (like basil, oregano, parsley, and mint) were sitting on the rail.

Fiddleford led the way up to the barn and opened the big doors. Ford awed at seeing two walls of little stalls, each with a little gate and its own pig. Big, fat hogs, mostly pink but some spotted and one was a dark-brown, oinked at the men happily and tiny piggies scrambled for a chance to be pet or scratched.

"Do we have to clean their stalls?" Ford asked, seeing the pitch-forks for hay near the door.

Fiddleford laughed as he picked up a little piglet and scratched the top of it's head. "Naw, pigs are really clean, the only animals that clean their own beds. Naw, every once and awhile we'll treat 'em with fresh hay, but not today. We just gotta get the food n' water buckets." Fiddleford put the piglet down to be with it's brothers and sisters and went to the big back door. There, two yokes sat against the door. He grabbed them and handed one to Ford. "If you'll get the water, I'll get the slaw. There's a well on the left side of the house. Just fill two buckets full n' bring 'em back here." And he pointed to a stack of metal buckets they could use.

Ford smiled with determination to help and he watched the way Fiddleford hung the buckets from the back of his neck with the yolk. Fiddleford then left for the house, so Ford did the same as his friend, but instead went to the well. He had never noticed it before, but there it was; a bucket was tied to some rope and sitting on the edge of the well, ready to be used. Ford was intelligent enough about the pulley-system to operate such an old-school well and managed to get the bucket down to the water with a plop. Ford rolled up his sleeves to crank the bucket back up, and as he worked, he noticed that on the stones the well's body was built on, there were marks. He was too busy working to get a good look, but when he filled the first bucket on the yolk, Ford took a closer look; he smiled when he saw that each McGucket child, except for Jeff and Caroline, had carved their names into a stone.

Ford filled the second bucket and then took the water back to the barn. "Fiddleford." He called.

"In here, Ford."

Ford followed the voice to the fenced-in backyard of the barn, through the opposite doors he came in. All of the hogs, about thirty or so, were cramming around a huge trough full of scrapes from the day before. Fiddleford was patting backs and rubbing bellies and making sure the young ones weren't getting bullied by the bigger ones too bad and still eating.

"Great! Good job! Just pour the water in that there water-trough." Fiddleford pointed to the opposite trough on the right side of the area with a smile.

Ford did as he was told and the minute the first bucket gently splashed in the trough about half of the pigs hurried over for the drink. Ford laughed and poured in the second one, splashing their faces a little, which pleased the animals as they licked their snouts and drank. One little piglet with a brown spot on it's ribs nuzzled with head on Ford's leg and looked up at him with shiny black eyes. Ford smiled at the pig. "Hello."

Fiddleford laughed and started to put his yoke and buckets away. "Ya can pet 'em if ya wanna, Ford, they don't bite."

Ford bent down and petted the little big carefully, unsure to what to expect, but he found it pleasantly soft and fuzzy and the pig enjoyed the touch, so Ford scratched under her chin and petted her back. "Do they have names?" Ford called to Fiddleford over the oinking and snorts and squeals of the hogs.

"Some do." Fiddleford called back. "Some don't." He emerged and smiled at the little pig. "That one don't yet. Why don't ya give her one? I recommend a non-human name."

"Why?"

"Either the pigs'll be sent to fairs for prizes or the butcher in town or t'old-school families at the holidays, for they're kept for breedin'. Ya get attached when ya name thangs, so be careful."

"Hm." Ford thought about it; it was just about to pass on naming the piglet altogether, but then she licked Ford's six-fingered hand; she seemed to like him. "Is it male or female?"

"She's a girl."

"Spot." Ford settled on and let her go eat some food. "I'll call her Spot."

"Sounds good t'me."

Ford picked up his yoke and went into the barn to put his equipment away, but on his way to where the other yoke was, he stepped on something and heard a yelp and a hiss. Ford jumped and yelled in shocked and looked down to see an orange tabby-kitten clawing at his boot in retaliation for being stepped on.

"Splat," Fiddleford scolded and picked the kitten up by the back of his neck. "Ya gotta be careful. That's whatcha get for bein' underfoot."

"Splat?" Ford asked.

"Jolene nicknamed him that cuz that's what he's gonna become if he doesn't learn one of these days." Fiddleford chuckled, then scratched the kitten and put him down. Splat ran to three other kittens, a black-and-white one and two gray tabby-cats, and they began to play.

"You said that is his nickname?" Ford asked.

Fiddleford chuckled and they chatted as Ford put the yoke and buckets away and they headed back to the house. "Yeah, we started off with a cat named Mary. She's 'round here somewhere, probably asleep under the porch, but she's a big gray tabby. Mama named her that after Jesus' mothers - cuz there's this old folk tale of a tabby cat warmin' up Baby Jesus, n' that's why they have Ms on their foreheads as thanks, but everybody knows it was a lamb that did the job - but anyways! Gettin's sidetracked… Mary had twelve kittens, believe it or not, so Mama named 'em after the twelve tribes. There's Reuben, Simeon, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun, Naphtali, Gad, n' Benjamin, n' then the girls were named Lexi, Dani, Ash n' Josephine."

Ford laughed, having grown up Jewish and had all twelve tribes memorized, and said, "Very creative. Which one is Splat?"

"Simeon."

"Does anyone else have a nickname?"

"Nah. Well, sometimes we call Judah 'Jude' n' Benjamin just 'Ben' or 'Benji', but that's 'bout it."

"So, are the cats like pets or more like a source of income like the pigs?"

"Oh, we use 'em mostly to catch mice n' help keep the barn clean, but Mary's been 'round for a long time n' will sometimes come in the house. Not so much anymore since the kittens been born, but when they get older n' sold Mary'll probably come back 'round. Wait, didn't ya said ya had a cat too?"

Ford chuckled as he remembered his mother's fat white cat. "Yes, I did say that. Ma took Snowball in when he was just a stray kitten, just a few months before she married Pa."

The conversation of cats led to a conversation of pets that carried them through the rest of the morning. With Fiddleford driving and Ford in the passenger, they took Bart, Max, Cornellius, and Jolene to school at the bed of the truck. Bart was a senior, Max was a junior, and Cornellius was a sophomore, but Jolene was finishing the seventh-grade, so they first drove to the middle-school and then drove further into town for the high-school. As they traveled and Bart chatted with Fiddleford and Jolene, Ford admired the little town of Athens. As they left the woods for the downtown area, the visitor admired how local and personal each shop was.

Back in Glass Shard there were still a handful of small family business, but in California it was mostly big corporate stores and malls. Here, there was a bakery, a floral shop that also sold ribbons and ladies' hats, a shoe parlor where Monty worked, a butcher, a small bar that mostly occupied games, a toy shop, a candy store filled to the brim with different sweets and sodas, a barber shop, and a farmer's market with different sellers every day. Just outside the downtown area was Jolene's middle-school. She waved goodbye to her brothers and walked up to the building; Ford couldn't help but notice that she chose to look up an oak tree rather than try to find any of her friends.

The high-school was a bigger building in town-square, sandwiched between the local library and a public garden, with flowers and bushes growing alongside wooden benches and tire-swings. There was also a small post-office and a large town-hall with a history-museum inside. The brothers tuck-and-rolled, having only three minutes to get to class, and that left Fiddleford and Ford to do whatever they pleased.

"So, whatcha wanna do, Fordsie?" Fiddleford asked.

Ford shrugged. "What do you normally do?"

Fiddleford opened his mouth to answer, but then a voice called from the other side of the street, well heard thanks to the calm street and the rolled-down windows. "Oy, McGucket!"

Fiddleford waved and smiled, leaning out his car-window a little. "Mornin', Mr. Jervis. How are ya?"

"M'okay, son, I reckon. My car won't start, thought, ya wonder if ya can take a look?"

"Sure thang." Fiddleford shut the engine of the truck off and took the key out of the ignition. "How 'bout it, Ford, wanna see what we can do?"

Ford shrugged with a smile, confident he could at least help his friend who was an amazing engineer for someone so young; surely they could fix an old car. "Sure."

Fiddleford and Ford ended up staying with Mr. Jervis until noon, rolling up their sleeves and working to fix the old car. It turned out Mr. Jervis' passenger door was faulty and sometimes didn't close all the way, so not only did they jump the battery but Fiddleford had some tools in the truck so they fixed the door so this wouldn't happen again. By the end of it the young men were sweaty and had grease stains on their arms and knees, but Mr. Jervis was so nice and so grateful that it was totally worth it.

It amazed Ford how friendly everyone was here; while they worked on the car, passers by would say good morning or welcome Fiddleford back from college or be happy to meet Ford; never before had so many people been so eager to shake his hand or hug him in greeting, just being polite and trying to be nice. Ford was a little taken-back and surprised, but he still enjoyed it immensely. Southern hospitality might just be the best thing the Southern States had to offer. Aside from the food.

For lunch, Fiddleford treated Ford to a run-down diner in the middle of town that was locally known for their milkshakes, made with milk from the owner's cousin's cow-farm. Ford didn't think there was such a thing as a tomato-sandwich but low and behold, that's what Fiddleford ordered. Ford kindly declined Fiddleford's offer to try it and settled with a bacon-burger and fries.

After lunch, Fiddleford drove them home and they sat on the porch and read books or talked. The afternoon-sun was pleasant in the shade and around two-thirty Mr. and Mrs. McGucket, Todd Jr., and Mary sat with them on the porch and they all sipped coffee, watching Jeff and Caroline run around the yard. Ford watched the kids while the married couples talked; Caroline and Jeff were playing a fun game, the boy running around, away from his sister, while Caroline tried to crawl as fast as she could to him, both laughing and having fun. Ford enjoyed watching them get along so well and was glad they each had someone to play with in a family full of young-adults.

Around four o'clock, when Ford had accidentally taken a nap on the porch swing and Fiddleford was playing his banjo after the adults had left to get back to work, Cornellius, Max, and Bart walked home and joined them on the porch, talking about school and fun stories they had from their years in hell. It wasn't until around five o'clock when Jolene emerged from the woods and walked home. Her brothers "oo"ed and snickered.

"Didn't Mama tell ya t'come home first n' then play in the woods?" Max sneered.

"Shaddup." Jolene snarled. "I finished my homework at the garden. That's why I'm just now gettin' home."

"Uh, huh." Max said with a mean grin and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, sure Joe."

"Don't call me that!" The youngest girl snapped.

"Or what?" Max dared.

"Ya better back off or I'll… I'll tell Mama 'bout the football game!" Jolene hissed quietly.

Cornellius gasped and covered his mouth with both of his hands. Bart's jaw was hanging. Fiddleford looked just as confused as Ford felt. Max's face was rigid. "Ya wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Jolene growled and went into the house, letting the screendoor slam shut.

"Remember when she used t'be all cute n' sweet?" Max asked the group of boys.

"Nope." Fiddleford, Cornellius, Bart, and Max said at the same time.

"What did she mean by the football game?" Ford asked.

"No." Max said firmly and gave everyone a deadly look. "Not one word. Not one more word."

"Alright, alright, keep your britches on, Maxie, no one's gonna snitch." Bart said and punched his shoulder.

"Does Jolene always try to go into the woods?" Ford asked.

"Oh, yeah." Fiddleford answered. "Well, it's kinda her thang, ya know? Like mine is bein; the handyman, Monty's is bein' a good listener, Todd's the referee n' second parent, Max is nothin' but trouble," Max put his hands on the back of his head and smiled proudly at that statement. "Corn's the fun-guy, Bart's Bart, but Jolene's the one who's always in the woods."

"Normally Mama wouldn't mind so much," Cornellius added. "But I think after six boys she just wants a girl who's more 'lady-like'."

"She's got Mary, now. N' Caroline, too." Bart said with a roll of her eyes. "Let Jolene be whoever she wants t'be. I'll never forget, the other day she came home cryin'."

Fiddleford stared. "_Our_ Jolene? Cryin'? What boy I gotta kill?!" Meanwhile Ford smiled at his best friend, entertained to see a more protective big-brother instinct come out of him.

"Naw, no boys." Bart said. "All girls. It was last Fall, while ya were away, all the girls brought their jewelry-boxes n' pretty photos n' all that. Apparently the girls gathered 'round Jolene n' she proudly opened her box full of snake-skins n' small animal skulls, n' owl-pellets n' bird-feathers n' the girls that didn't run away screamin' called her a freak n' made fun o' her."

"God bless," Fiddleford sighed. "She's way too smart n' amazin' for this world."

"She'll get over this, she's a McGucket." Max said casually and waved the problem away. "Summer'll be here soon n' then she can play in the woods all she wants. She'll grow outta this soon."

"Well I hope she never grows outta it." Cornellius said proudly. "I've never met someone so young who knows so much 'bout nature. She's real smart n' special n' should stay that way."

"She can be smart n' special n' still a woman."

"What, ya sayin' she's not now?!"

"What, no! I-I just meant…"

"BOYS!" The men jumped as the screech came from the kitchen window. It burst open by Mrs. McGucket's hand and yelled, "Papa needs your help! Rascal's gotten out 'gian!"

Max, Cornellius, Bart, and Fiddleford all swore as safely as they could with their mother around and hurried to help. Ford followed them around to the backyard for the hog farm. Ford started as a big pig with spots all on its face but none on its body was running around, avoiding Mr. McGucket and squealing loudly. Bart dove for the pig, but the pig was too fast and avoided him. Max jumped over Bart and ran after the pig, meanwhile Cornellius ran ahead to try to cut the pig off. Rascal, squealing, spun like a top and ran as fast as he could away.

Ford was quicker than Fiddleford and dove on top of the pig, catching it in his grasp and rolling on the grass so the young man was on his back, but Rascal kicked and scratched with his hooves and kicked Ford in the jaw, loosening his grip just enough to almost escape, but Ford was stubborn and held on tightly, gritting his teeth. Mr. McGucket was soon there with a rope and quickly tied it around the pig's neck.

"Well done, Ford! Well done, son!" Mr. McGucket praised. "That was mighty impressive! Way t'handle that fire trapped in a pig's body like a champ!"

Ford blinked, a little confused and dazed. He was holding his sore chin as Mr. McGucket pulled the big squealing pig away. He didn't think he did much to help but hold a wild hog, but Mr. McGucket not only praised him but said that what he did was impressive. Ford smiled and stood when Bart extended a hand to him, unafraid to touch the six-fingered hand. "Th-thank you, sir."

"Gosh, Rascal gotcha good." Bart said with a half-smile. "Mama's gonna have a fit."

"Pardon?"

"You're bruisin' already, Ford." Fiddleford chuckle. "Bit o' friendly advice: just let her fuss until she's done."

What Fiddleford and Bart said came true; when Fiddleford and Ford went into the house, Mrs McGucket took one look at Ford and was frantic. Leaving Mary to work on supper alone for a few minutes, she forced Ford into one of the chairs at the dining table and put a cool damp washcloth to his chin where it bruised very dark. Ford almost winced it was such a deep bruise; if Rascal's hooves had been any sharper it would have left a deep cut.

"Lord have mercy, m'gonna _kill_ that pig! I swear, our lives'll be better off the sooner we fatten'im up n' take 'em t'the butcher!" Mrs McGucket ranted as she worked on tending Ford's bruise.

He started to turn red over all the fuss over a bruise; Moses knows he has received worse injuries over the years via boxing and bullying. "Really, Mrs. McGucket, I'm fine, you don't have to…"

"Now, now, Stanford, so fussin', m'almost done now." Mrs. McGucket said in a calmer tone, her mother-instincts fully in-use. "M'sorry choo got hurt, but choo did a great job wrestlin' that hog. See, I knew he'd do fine here."

"No, Mama," Fiddleford said, shaking his head. "Ya asked me a million times if he'd be fine here n' it didn't matter how many times I told ya so, ya were worried he wouldn't last a week."

"Oh, hush, Fiddleford, don't correct your mama." Mrs. McGucket said as she turned beet-red and left to put away the washcloth.

Ford was just as red in the face as Mrs. McGucket, but when his eyes met with Fiddleford and his best friend winked, Ford smiled and knew that everything was the way it should be.


End file.
